


Beautiful

by waywardimpalawriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Self Hated, mean women
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardimpalawriter/pseuds/waywardimpalawriter
Summary: Overheard conversations lead to beautiful revelations.





	Beautiful

Summary: Overheard conversations lead to beautiful revelations.

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: self-hated, mean women

Setting: Any season

Notes: Written for my 400 follower celebration music challenge. Requested by @[sammiesamness](http://sammiesamness.tumblr.com/) Song: Scars to your beautiful by: Alessia Cara

 

This had been a big mistake, huge you didn’t wear dresses. Jeans, t-shirts, shorts sometimes, plaid all the time, those were the clothes you’re comfortable in. Not this form fitting, showing way too many curves dress that in your opinion is the wrong color, but Dean swears you look good in. Accepting his judgement on the blue dress, sliding nervous hands down your sides, before stepping out of the bathroom.

“Knew it,” the first words that came out of Dean’s mouth once you came into view. “Hot mama all the guys are going to be drooling over.”

“Shut it Winchester,” you blushed steeling a look in Sam’s direction and finding that he’s turned his back fiddling with something on the small motel room table.

Eyes followed yours, a frown drawing his full lips down, “Earth to Sammy, you still with us?”

Head snapping towards Dean, “Ready to go and get this over with.”

“Then let’s rock and roll,” grabbing the blue clutch you’d purchased with the dress. Carrying what little would fit and feeling slightly naked without your 9mm stuck to your hip. Having been replaced by a smaller weapon so is to not draw attention. Nerves still making you a little jumpy, but its Sam’s demeanor which makes you wish its Dean accompanying you instead.

True you had a crush on the younger Winchester for a while now, having been hunting for all your life and the last five of it with them. You’d try anything to keep yourself from mooning, as your mother would’ve called it, over the 6’4 handsome hunter. Though you couldn’t help yourself and tonight’s the topper. He’s having to escort you to the gala where one cursed object has been wreaking havoc on the small Midwest town. You’re so engrossed with watching where to walk and how in heels that you miss the look in Sam’s eyes as he finally takes you in.

Getting in the back of Baby, making sure your dress doesn’t get caught in the door jam, gives you the time to watch as Sam walks out dressed in a rented black tux, bow tie looking so cute just under his chin. You knew he’s uncomfortable, whether it’s because he’s having to wear the monkey suit as Dean voice many times or having you as a date. You’re not sure, though you plan on trying to enjoy the night even if it’s to work a case.

“Alright children lets go over the plan one more time,” shifting the impala to park a few blocks from the big party.

“We get in with the fake ids created,” Sam begins.

“Pray the real guests don’t show up and aren’t well known enough to be recognized as frauds,” you took over.

“Find this vase the ghost is holding on to and destroy it. Simple.”

“Till your Samquatch ass gets detected and you both spend a night with Barney Fife, having me riding in to save your butts like the Lone Ranger,” smiling Dean looked between the two of you. Proud grin faltering as you both are glaring at him. “Hey I’m hilarious damn it,” he grumbled feeling your smaller hand pat his shoulder.

“Only in your dreams Deano,” chuckling before starting to get out.

However, Sam took that second to get himself out, opening your door and holding his hand out for you to take. “Let’s get this party started shall we,” offering you his most cute smile.

A light blush dusts your cheeks, “And here I though we’re working a case Samuel?” accepting the hand he’s offering.

“We can still dance and drink Y/N,” giving you a wink while placing your hand in the crook of his arm. “Don’t wait up Dean,” he calls over his shoulder. Both of you hearing him grumble against at being left behind.

It really was a two person job, adding a third would surely get them caught. Of course Dean’s back up if anything were to happen.

Entering the palatial mansion, “James Rogers and his wife Sharon,” the names roll off Sam’s lips as you try not to chuckle.

“You may enter,” the doorman droned on motioning for the two of you to join the party already in full swing.

Leaning in, pretending to be whispering something naughty, you hand on Sam’s taut chest. “How do you want to play this?”

“Simple,” he answers taking the hand on his chest, wrapping his larger one around then twirling you out and back into his arms. Free hand going to the small of your back, “Mingle for a bit then look.”

Left arm wrapping around his shoulders, “You’re pretty good at this Sam, better than Dean said you would.”

“You listened to him?” he scoffs dipping you backwards eyes taking in the lavishness of the ballroom, done in gold, silver, grey and black. Many older couples mingling around the perimeter of the dance floor. Younger couples moving to the slightly modern music. To his right, several tables are set up holding all manner of delicacies, as waiters and waitresses maneuver through the throng of bodies serving champagne and drinks upon request.

Shrugging as Sam brought you back up, “He’s the oldest right, knows everything.”

Chuckling as he shakes his head, twirling you still the room spun before bringing you back into the shelter of his arms. “Not everything,” voice whispering over your shoulder, back pressed against his strong chest.

Leaning back then up, breathe caught in your throat at how Sam’s looking at you. So flustered you miss a step, which almost lands on his foot, but recovers. “I should stop a sec, need a break,” voice barely a whisper while pulling from his grasp.

“Don’t take too long,” holding your hand captive longer than necessary.

Nodding, giving Sam one last look as you exit the dance floor. Walking slightly unsteady in heels not really meant for your feet unless Sam’s leading of course. Who you kidding the main reason your wobble has more to do with Sam than anything else. Making your way towards the bathroom first to collect your thoughts, following the signs set up for the event. Pushing the door open, even the frigging bathroom looked like something out of a high class magazine.

“Don’t belong here,” you mutter to yourself, standing in front of a large mirror taking in your appearance.

Face still flush from dancing, eyes bright, hair just a few strands out of place that you smooth over. Hearing heels clicking, you immediately rust to a stall almost totally enclosed accepted for the bottom and top of the door. Demons you could face, monsters of any type kill’em dead, a group of giggling, self-indulged women who you had nothing in common with scared the living shit out of you. Hence your currant place of hiding, listening for when they’ll leave.

“Can you believe that couple? I mean him yes, but her and that blue dress all wrong,” stated a snooty voiced woman entering the bathroom.

“Nancy be nice for once,” came another female voice.

Nancy snorts, heels tapping on the granite floor, “As if, she’s all wrong for him. Blotched skin, mousy hair, wrong dress for her bigger body and the dancing, I’m surprised he didn’t drop her off at the first chance.”

“Maybe he likes her?” you could hear the second woman shrug because of her dress.

“Please Sharon, pity her yes, like her hell no. You saw the look he gave me once she left. He’s better off without her really,” reapplying her lipstick.

The other woman sighs loudly, which Nancy ignores, rolling her eyes, knowing her friend was seeing things.

“Let’s go, I have a stud to bag.”

Frozen in place, feet refusing to move, you’re stunned by what that woman had said. Sure your plan, unnoticeable but had she really needed to pick you apart like that. Shaking from disgust at her and yourself for being put in this predicament, for choosing this dress, for even thinking Sam could really look at you. You’d been seeing things now that you had a clearer head, or so you thought. But it didn’t matter, finishing this case matter. As you wiped at the tears, pushed open the stall door, your eyes locked with your mirrored reflection.

“Ugly,” the vile word slipped from your lips before you could stop it and you’re out the door seconds later.

Stepping back into the ballroom, you scan the large room, spotting Sam talking with two women, one of which you assumed is Nancy. Eyes close for a moment willing yourself to forget about everything else but the mission. You could cry later, alone. Turning, you miss the look which passes over Sam’s features as he caught you standing ridge and frozen for that moment. Wanting nothing more than to tear himself away from the two pariah surrounding him, turning his stomach sour with all the uppity talk.

“Excuse me ladies,” he states not bothering to look at either, but focused on your retreating form.

“Well,” letting out a huff when Sam disappeared into the throng of people.

Sharon chuckles behind her champagne glass, feeling that Nancy is getting what she deserves.

Making it to the hallway, not seeing you anywhere. Sam starts down the hall, eyes searching, ears listening for anything other than the music playing too loud from the grand ballroom. As he got farther down the hall he could make out noises that had nothing to do with the party. Some that he really didn’t want to know about but one which has him rushing towards the last door in the darken hallway.

Partially open, Sam pushed forward eyes widening in worry before morphing into anger. The spirit of Wilma Hendricks’s has you by the throat against the far wall squeezing the life out of you as, feet dangled, heels fallen off in the struggle to get loose.    

“Hey Casper pick on someone your own size,” voice growled as he advancing on the Spector, pulling his gun from the waist band of the dress slacks he wore.

Gasping for air, having fell to your knees with a thud, hand going to your neck coughing wishing your lungs wouldn’t burn so bad. Looking up right as Sam shot the ghost iron bullets doing the trick for now. You tried to stand on shaky legs, looking for the vase.

Strong arms wrap around your waist hauling you into his muscular frame, “Why didn’t you come get me?”

Head shaking you push away from Sam still unsteady but under your own power, disregarding his question your eyes seek out each vase in the room. Dismissing almost all except the one farthest away.

“Of course,” you mutter scooping up your purse from where it’d landed when the ghost attacked. Bare footed you step forward only to be blocked by the spirit again.

Grabbing for the fireplace poker, Sam swiped at the ghost watching as it disappeared again, motioning for you to go. You didn’t have to be told twice as you took off towards the item, only to be blocked once more. Diverting your path faking, you hear the ghost screech right as your fingers grip the porcelain tossing the fragile piece to the ground pulling the small salt vile, kerosene and matches. Salting and burning that bitch back to hell. Your form slumping against the wall once she’s gone up in ashes.

Quickly Sam wrapped you in his arms or tried to anyway, “I can walk Sam I’m not a baby,” you growl, limping back over to grab your shoes then out the door. “I’m leaving you can stay if you wish.”

Pausing, your demeanor has him puzzled as you’ve never given him the cold shoulder before. Right as you reach the back entrance phone in hand texting Dean to come pick you up, Sam reaches you.

“Y/N what’s the matter with you?”

Refusing to turn, “Nothing I’m tired, need a shower and sleep that’s all.”

“But…”

Before he could say more a voice calls out, “Sam sweetie you back there?” it’s Nancy and it seemed she’s come for him.

Quickly, he grabs your arm tugging you out the door, down the steps and into the night, before the horrible woman could see him.

“Slow down Paul Bunya I can’t keep up with your steps,” you huff pulling to a stop and out of his grip. “Where’s the fire anyway?”

Grimacing, “You think I want to be around that witch?” he gives you the once over seeing your hair’s falling from the French twist you’d put it up into. Reaching out to brush a strand from your face, “Besides I have someone better to be with.”

Stepping back, bare feet reminding you that with each step you needed to be mindful of. You didn’t need a cut or twisted ankle. “Dean right?” cause he sure couldn’t mean you.

Fed up with how things were going, Sam knew he’d wasted enough time, made you think he saw you as a sister than something more. Yet tonight, you stepping out in that dress, his resolve broke. “Hell no, he’s a jerk. I’m talking about you,” reaching out he tries to cup your cheek but you step back again.

“You don’t mean that Sam,” eyes anxious, darting around and landing on anything but him. “I’m not…”

“Not what? Beautiful? Courageous? Smart?” lifting a brow he stares at you, hearing the Impala’s purring engine getting closer. He losses no time wrapping his arms around your waist pulling you tight. “I don’t know what changed from the moment you left me till you returned to the ballroom, before taking off to tackle the ghost yourself. But whatever it is stop thinking like that.”

“Sam please just forget it.”

“I won’t,” one arm stay’s around your waist while the other comes up to cup the side of your face, finger brushing your bottom lip. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

Shaking your head, “I’m not Sam,” head tilted down.

Callused thumb and forefinger grip your chin raising it, “To me you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid eyes on and tonight was just the topper. Don’t ever think I see you as anything less Y/N. No other woman can compare to how I see and feel about you.”

Blinking tears pooling in your eyes, “You’ve never said anything.”

Eyes close for a brief moment, “I didn’t think you could feel the same way.”

It’s your turn to be shocked, a gasp leaving your parted lips, “Are you kidding?”

“No, I’m not. After everything I’ve done, why would you?”

Palm sliding over his jaw, nerves leaving, with the sorrow you see in those whiskey colored hazel eye, “Because Sam I love you.”

Eyes wide, smile gracing his features, lighting his eyes. “You sure?”

“Dork,” you pop his shoulder, somberness returning for a moment, “Everything that you did or didn’t do is in your past Sam it doesn’t define you.”

“Just like what other women say shouldn’t define you.”

“How did you?”

Shrugging, “I saw those two heathens walk back into the ballroom and towards me a little before you returned. Heard part of what they were saying as they approached. Put two and two together.”

“Smarter than the average bear or in this case moose,” you grin which he returns leaning down to brush his lips against yours.

“By the way Y/N I love you to,” before claiming your mouth in a deeper kiss.

Neither of you noticed Dean having parked the car watching, chuckling to himself as he leans back in Baby, closing his eyes to wait. Happy that you’ve stopped being knuckleheads con confessed.


End file.
